


Exposure

by KeianaLunae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Awesome Evan Lorne, Gen, International Fanworks Day 2018, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:51:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeianaLunae/pseuds/KeianaLunae
Summary: Lorne makes a huge mistake while stuck in a frozen elevator with Sheppard.Written for the IFD2018 Short Fanworks Challenge, with the prompt: "What does your favourite character—or your favourite pairing—get fannish over?"





	Exposure

Lorne tried his hardest not to groan out loud when the power in the elevator went out completely and they were plunged into darkness. This was NOT how he had foreseen his vacation going. It was bad enough that he had been unexpectedly recalled. To make matters worse the elevator had broken down and he had been stuck in the small cold cage with Sheppard for over an hour already.

~o~o~o~

He’d been three days into his first time off in over a year, and his nephews had been ecstatic to see him. His sister too, but mostly because the kids could work off their unlimited energy with their uncle instead, while she actually got some time to herself. At six and eight they were a handful, and it was the middle of summer too so she couldn’t even pack them off to school as a distraction.

Then his cellphone had rung, and he’d had five minutes’ warning that the Apollo was going to beam him to the surface of the Ancient outpost in Antarctica. There was a heightened state of alert and he was needed to operate the chair. He had muttered a fifteen-second apology to his sister and the kids and sprinted to his room to grab his go bag and get his backpack filled with some personal items. There was no time to change, either, so he would have to go in his civvies.

The kids had insisted on doing Christmas in July and he couldn’t risk leaving his presents behind - he might not have a chance to come back to San Francisco to pick them up. So, he quickly shoved his new art supplies, socks, books, iPod and his awesome new beanie into his backpack, as well as the new jeans, shirts and sneakers he had bought on his first day back. On his way out the room, he had grabbed his old fleece-lined windbreaker from the hook behind the door. Antarctica was cold and while the standard issue gear did the job, it wasn’t the most comfortable stuff.

Then he kissed his sister and the boys and had sprinted out the door and down the block, across the road and into a secluded spot where he could be beamed out without anybody seeing him go. Two flashes later he was standing in the demarcated beam zone at the surface of the outpost, luggage in hand. A special shield had long since been installed to prevent beaming in and out of the outpost itself.

He had been surprised to see Sheppard standing at the security checkpoint. As a general rule, they tried to not have both him and Sheppard back on Earth at the same time, or on leave at the same time. He had simply quirked his brow at his CO, taking great pleasure in appearing completely unfazed while Sheppard had blinked owlishly at the sudden appearance of his XO. Lorne’s unflappable nature was one of his superpowers.

“Lorne! I see you got kidnapped too.” Sheppard had looked like he wasn’t sure if he was happy to be there or not. He was in his Class A’s which in itself was unusual.

“Yes sir” Lorne had calmly replied as he handed over his ID to the guard to get signed in.

Sheppard had waited for him to get cleared and they had hopped in the elevator. The Colonel explained as the elevator began to descend. He had been called back to Earth just hours before, for an emergency meeting with O’Neill at the Pentagon.

They had barely started when the call had come through, and O’Neill had taken great pleasure in sending Sheppard down to Antarctica in his stead. He had been beamed over from DC less than a minute before Lorne. The only intel he had that Lorne didn’t was that it involved the Trust. They would get briefed once they reached the outpost. Why they needed _both_ of them to operate the chair was a mystery.

The elevator had jerked to a sudden halt about halfway down the shaft. Neither of them had radios, and the comm panel inside the elevator was dead. Sheppard had immediately suggested that they pop the cage and climb down the shaft to the outpost, but Lorne had vetoed his idea. Sheppard was wearing his dress shoes, and Lorne was in sneakers.

They didn’t have any climbing gear, much less gloves. The ladder would be iced. It had been a moot point; Sheppard couldn’t get the cage door to open. The elevator had a heat lamp, too, to prevent the interior from icing up, so they were better off staying inside it. They had settled down to wait.

~o~o~o~

Lorne had known it wouldn’t last long. Sheppard was notoriously bad at sitting still. He had tried to pester Lorne as a form of entertainment, but Lorne had years of practice and was immune to all Sheppard’s standard ways of getting a rise out of people. Lorne had pulled out an extra shirt after 30 minutes. The elevator had no insulation, and despite the heat lamp, there was a constant downdraft in the shaft so it was somewhat chilly.

Sheppard hadn’t let up, his frustration at being stuck in a small space under the ice being converted into annoyance. His uniform had kept him decently warm, but even he was starting to feel the cold. And now, an hour and six minutes into this unexpected detainment, they were stuck without light. Mostly. Lorne reached over and fished in his go bag for the flashlight he always carried with him.

The beam cut through the dark and reflected off the ice with an eerie blue tinge. The mesh pattern of the elevator cage made a rippled shadow effect against the icy wall of the shaft. Sheppard looked relieved but contradicted his expression with his words.

“We don’t know how long we’ll be stuck down here, so we should probably spare the battery as much as possible.”

Lorne nodded; he didn’t disagree. But with the heat lamp gone, the temperature was rapidly dropping. He handed the light to Sheppard.

“We’ll need some extra layers, sir.” Sheppard nodded at that and angled the light for Lorne as his XO pulled a bundle of clothing out of his backpack. Lorne separated out two shirts and a pair of socks and tossed them Sheppard’s way, so Sheppard carefully planted the flashlight in the corner of the cage so they could both layer up.

Lorne pulled on an additional long-sleeved shirt and the windbreaker while Sheppard shrugged off his jacket and pulled on the two shirts before tugging his jacket on over them. Lorne pulled his beanie over his head, grateful to have it, and then rolled the extra socks over his hands in lieu of gloves.

Sheppard had given him an odd look while he was doing that but had followed suit. Then Sheppard had retrieved the flashlight, but instead of switching it off like they had agreed, he angled it towards Lorne, blinding him somewhat, so Lorne held up a hand to shield his eyes. Sheppard redirected the light, so Lorne dropped his hand and gave his CO a baleful look for purposefully blinding him.

Sheppard was grinning at him, unrepentant.

His CO was a childish jerk sometimes. He still didn’t switch off the flashlight - he just angled it to reflect off the ice wall behind him, diffusing it somewhat. In the dim light, Lorne could see Sheppard settle back against the cage. He stared upwards, then downwards, and then upwards again. Lorne quirked a brow at him.

“You ever watch “The Thing”, Major?”

“No, sir. I've heard of it, though.”

“Decent movie. I hear they’re doing a remake.” Sheppard shrugged. “What’s your favourite movie?”

If Sheppard wanted to do the get-to-know-you-better thing, Lorne could roll with that. It was a step up from the previous hour. Of course, he wouldn’t tell Sheppard that his favourite movie was Frida; he was military and had a reputation to maintain.

“Die Hard, sir.”

Sheppard gave him a moderately incredulous look.

“Your favourite movie is Die Hard, but you weren’t willing to climb the elevator shaft to get out of here?”

“There’s brave and then there’s stupid, sir.” Lorne threw back calmly. Sheppard shook his head sadly.

“What’s yours?” Lorne tilted his chin towards Sheppard. Fair is fair if you expect to share.

“Princess Bride,” Sheppard answered with an offhanded shrug. “But back to Die Hard. Earth could be under attack right now and we’re stuck in an elevator halfway down to the only weapon capable of defending her, and you seriously aren’t motivated to get out of here? McClane only had a handful of hostages to protect. We have billions of lives at stake!”

Lorne tapped into his reserve of calm.

“Have you figured out how to get us out of the cage yet, sir?”

Sheppard’s eyes flicked over to Lorne’s Go Bag. “You got any C4 in there?”

Lorne blinked. Just once.

“No, sir, I do not have C4 in my Go Bag. And even if I did, there is no way for us to set off a charge in such a small space without killing us both, or doing irreparable damage to the structure of the elevator.” He managed to keep a neutral tone throughout.

“Point taken,” said Sheppard, and Lorne relaxed a little. Hopefully, Sheppard would settle down again, and they wouldn’t have to…

“Too bad there are no floor numbers in this elevator.” Sheppard tossed out, and Lorne blinked at the sudden change in topic. Floor numbers? In an ice shaft sunk below Antarctica, with only two stops, one at either end? He had to ask.

“Floor numbers, sir?”

Sheppard grinned.

“Yeah. If we’d gotten stuck on floor nine and three-quarters we could just have popped through the magic wall, like in that movie.”

Lorne snapped.

“Platform nine and three-quarters. Platform! Not floor! And that’s King’s Cross train station, not an elevator!” Lorne vehemently corrected.

Sheppard eyed him warily.

“Umm…” Lorne started, and then faltered. There was an uncomfortable silence in the cage for a few seconds, and Lorne really didn’t know what to say to make up for his freak-out but was saved from having to think of something when Sheppard grinned at him.

“That was a cool movie though, yeah? They have to stop that Moldevort guy from getting that rock.”

Lorne twitched.

“As a pilot, I gotta admit it would be cool to try that Quilting game, you know..” Sheppard gestured expansively, ”...the one with the brooms and the vertical hoop things where they throw balls around in the air and smack people?”

“Oh my god. STOP!” Lorne said desperately.

“And that Henry dude has to chase the snatch, right?” Sheppard continued, undeterred by the growing look of horror on Lorne’s face.

“Snitch!” Lorne croaked out, but Sheppard was on a roll, snapping his fingers rapidly, McKay style.

“You know what would be useful on Atlantis? Some of that gillweed stuff that the little elf dude gave Henry when he had to swim underwater to fight those squid things during the Triwizlympics.”

Lorne’s muscles spasmed, and it took all his concentration not to give in to the overpowering urge to do Sheppard bodily harm. He couldn’t stop his mouth though.

“GILLYWEED!” he shout-blurted out. “And it’s the TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT! His name is HARRY! And it’s called QUIDDITCH!”

Lorne’s face felt hot, and his hands were clenched into fists so tight his nails were digging into his palms.

“And it’s played with a QUAFFLE NOT A BALL, and BLUDGERS!”

Lorne sucked in a rapid breath before pointing an imperious finger at Sheppard.

“AND IT WAS A BOOK! Seven of them, actually!”

Sheppard was gaping at him, and during the tense silence that followed Lorne put two and two together.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and then he reached up to yank his red and yellow Gryffindor beanie off his head.

Sheppard brayed with laughter, and Lorne slumped back against the cage. He glared at his bastard of a boss until Sheppard had stopped shaking and pulled himself back upright. Then Sheppard smirked at him, so Lorne defiantly yanked his warm beanie back on before leaning over to switch off the flashlight.

He didn’t speak to Sheppard for the rest of their three-hour incarceration in the dark icy elevator.

~o~o~o~

It was only several hours and a warm shower later down in the outpost after Sheppard had so graciously volunteered to take the first Chair shift that Lorne realised something. Sheppard had said, “ _...that the little elf dude gave Henry..._ ”.

The movies had given that task to Neville Longbottom. The only way Sheppard could have known that it was actually Dobby…

The asshat.

Sheppard had read the books.

This meant war.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for IFD2018 in less than four hours. I know, it was supposed to be "short", but these things just get away from me. Thanks to Albus, Mopsie and Sig for their help with the HP side of things. I know just enough about it to be dangerous... to their health. "OMG STOP" was Mopsie's literal reaction to my vague description of Quidditch as 'that game with the vertical hoop goal posts where they throw things around'. Heh. Also, she told me the story of the time someone said "Floor 9 and 3/4" and she flipped out. Mopsie is the biggest HP fan I personally know. Albus suggested the 'trying to stop Voldemort from getting a rock' bit. Sig waved pompoms, suggested ideas, laughed at my snatch joke, and valiantly fought the cat for control of his keyboard to help me google for details.
> 
> A/N Update: Southern Midwinter has come and gone, and I can finally reveal that this story was entirely inspired by a Gryffindor Beanie that I had been hiding in my drawer since January as a WintersGift for Sig. He was wearing his Gryffindor Quidditch shirt and looking for his "most excellent hat" (His Firefly-Jayne-Beanie) to keep warm, and thus The Beanie was gifted. He put it on immediately and refused to take it off for 3 days.


End file.
